


A Memory

by mphilipak



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Angst, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mphilipak/pseuds/mphilipak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brief shots of Fenris dealing with his feelings with a man larger than life and also in love with another man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Friend requested, "pining Fenris."

The first time he noticed something different was when he was sitting in Denarius's mansion. He'd questioned the feeling at first, even confused by it. He wasn't sure what it was. There was no word he knew that felt satisfactory. But when Hawke had complimented him, he first felt doubt, then distrust. But underneath all that, a squirrelish feeling settling deep in his stomach and his chest tightened. Hawke didn't seem to notice, or perhaps didn't care to mention he'd noticed. Regardless, this feeling was... unfamiliar. Fenris tried to ignore it as the conversation went on, the taste of a bitter wine dry at the back of his mouth. It stayed even after Hawke had left, his large smile and boisterous laugh following him out the door of the drafty room Fenris still sat in, the fire barely embers now. Though the room was not biting at his skin, even in the cool summer night, Fenris smiled. Perhaps this new life wouldn't be as unbearable as he'd first imagined. 

With each new fight, with each new foe, Hawke managed to pull through. Bloodied, battered, and worn, but victorious. And with each blow Hawke took, Fenris swore at himself. The least he could do to help repay his debt to Hawke would be to protect him in a fight. What Fenris couldn't help but feel though, was the grip around his heart, cold and icy, as he'd see a sword fall too close to Hawke's head or swing just barely enough to cut through Hawke's clothes, but not his skin. After the danger would pass, Fenris would run to him, stone faced, checking for anything that would suggest Hawke wouldn't make it. He'd laugh and jeer, joking about how much of a mother hen Fenris was even when compared to Merrill. Fenris would reply in kind, usually commenting on Hawke's impractical habit of charging into each fight blindly, but would silently thank whatever luck Hawke had that he would live for another day. 

The Hanged Man was always foul, its only redeeming factor being Varric and Hawke laughing next to him. Fenris could blame the blush on his cheeks and ears on the sour beer, and even how his armor felt far too tight and hot on the room full of burly drunks and loose whores. But Hawke leaning into him, his warmth radiating from his body; it only made the blush grow from Fenris's cheeks and ears down to his neck. Once more, Hawke didn't seem to notice, too drunk and involved in Varric's tale to notice Fenris push a little bit back into him, and the quiet smile that came with it.

Fenris was waiting at the door of Anders's clinic in Darktown. He'd wanted to leave as soon as he got there, despising the very presence of the mage. Fenris stayed only because Hawke had come to check up on Anders, not having seen him in weeks; no doubt due to the new influx of patients and mages seeking freedom. And yet, none of that bothered Fenris. No, what bothered him was how Hawke was looking at Anders, and likewise with how Anders looked at Hawke. Their faces where barely inches apart as they stood off to the side, so far that Fenris could just barely see them. Hawke had a hand on Anders's arm, all the while never looking away from Anders with concern. Fenris tried to tear his eyes away, but he couldn't. Jealousy possessed Fenris in a few short moments, and all Fenris could think of was if Hawke, in all his blundering, could ever look at Fenris like he does Anders right now. His irritation was evident on his face, and when Varric asked him what was wrong, he shrugged the dwarf off. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't know how to talk about it. 

Weeks passed, and Hawke could be found more and more often at a clinic hidden deep within Darktown. Fenris preferred to stay in Denarius's mansion, finding comfort in the way alcohol numbed him. He'd not told anyone of his distress, though many asked, as he was clearly not good at hiding his thoughts on his face. Even Hawke had asked, with genuine concern written on his expression, and Fenris had snapped at him, unfairly so, as Hawke had no way of knowing he was both the cause and solution to his epidemic. Fenris took another swig out of the bottle, pacing back and fourth slowly in front of the fire. He just wanted to see Hawke again. He wanted a lot of things right now. Hawke among them. The bottom of his second wine bottle had been found, and with a sudden burst of bitterness, he hurled the bottle at the wall behind him. 

On a different night, not unlike the many other nights Fenris spent alone in the mansion, wishing he had the nerve to go speak to Hawke, if only to see him and hear him talk, Fenris heard the door downstairs open. He wasn't concerned as to who it was, as there was nothing in this decaying house worth any value. What did concern him was Hawke walking through the door, his eyes puffy and red. Fenris moved to greet him, his vision blurred from the wine, but Hawke waved him aside. He only sat down in the chair beside Fenris, solemn and quiet, not saying a word. Fenris had no idea what to say, if he could even form a proper sentence at the moment. All he could do was sit there and stare at the man beside him. Eyes puffy and red, his expression tired and sad; conflicted with something Fenris couldn't understand at the moment. It was late, the warmth from the wine flowing through his veins, clouding his mind. “I don't know what to do, Fenris.” The words were barely heard, being only a whisper. Fenris remained quiet, gazing at Hawke's face intently. I shaky breath escaped Hawke as he leaned back into the chair, his fingers combing through his dark locks. They didn't speak much beyond that, sharing only the wine in the room and a somber silence before Hawke fell asleep in his chair, Fenris not far behind him.

As they traveled together, it was evident to anyone with eyes that something had happened between Anders and Hawke. Where they once openly spoke and laughed, they now stood silently, not meeting eyes or making comments towards each other. Fenris also noted that Hawke increasingly spent his evenings at Fenris's mansion more often. Regardless, it seemed that with each visit, and with each each smile Hawke gave Fenris, that he had begun to hope, if only slightly, that he'd one day get to look Hawke in the eyes and see the same emotions looking back at him.   
________

“Fenris.”

Fenris stirred from his brooding to meet those warm brown eyes of Hawke's, bright next to the crimson coverlet of his bed. 

“Hmm, yes?” His tone was dismissive as he absent mindedly rubbed the bright red material between his fingers. 

“Quit brooding and come here.” Hawke lazily reached out to pull Fenris closer to him, pulling him into an embrace while he laid in Hawke's lap.

“I always brood. This should be no surprise to you by now.” Hawke hummed in response as he kissed the back of Fenris's scowling head.

“Believe me, I know.” A few moments of silence followed, along with the sound of the fire cracking and their breathing in sync. 

Fenris could feel the question stirring before it was even asked. “I was thinking about all those years ago, back when we first met.”

“Yeah? What about them? About how you were madly in love with me?” Fenris rolled his eyes and scowled as he smiled, easily finding a comfortable position and sinking into Hawke's burly arms. He still had that indescribable feeling that he'd had all those years ago, but now, he knew what it was called.


End file.
